


Change (in the House of Flies)

by stanclub



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Masks, Oral Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Praise Kink, Songfic, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanclub/pseuds/stanclub
Summary: Snipers are typically portrayed as somewhat troubled people who treat their gun as a best friend of sorts, they’re very touchy about other people trying to use it, they’re the only ones who get to clean it, and taking it apart so they can put it back together is almost therapeutic, something only they get to do because it’s a personal and emotional process.What happens here is how Bucky is able to reconcile both parts of himself, the Winter Soldier and the WWII sniper who gave his life for his country then got another chance.





	Change (in the House of Flies)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Chloe](http://buckysbrat.tumblr.com/) on tumblr from a prompt which had nothing to do with anything that's written here. But, she was also thirsty for some Winter Soldier action so Winter Soldier action is what she got.   
> A huge thank you to [Mags](http://its-a-pretty-interesting-wall.tumblr.com/) for giving me the words for this summary. I felt like you really got exactly what I was going for here and put it into incredibly eloquent words.   
> Also thanks to [Beth](http://im-finallly-clean.tumblr.com/), [Courtney](http://captainrogerrsbeard.tumblr.com/), and [THIS SONG](http://cmorgana.tumblr.com/>Ginny</a>%20for%20reading%20this%20over%20and%20giving%20me%20honest,%20heartfelt%20feedback.%20%0A%0AThere%20are%20some%20Russian%20translations%20here%20which%20were%20found%20using%20Google%20Translate%20so%20I%20hope%20they're%20righ%0A%0A<i>The%20title%20of%20this%20fic%20comes%20from%20<a%20href=). It really sets the tone for this entire story so I highly recommend giving it a listen at some point!

Your shrill text tone– the one specifically chosen for Bucky– goes off sometime in the middle of the night. You’re asleep, but feel yourself jolt as the tinny sound wakes you. He never texts after a mission unless it’s one of those missions. The ones that don’t go well. The ones where they can’t save everybody. **  
**

With firm pressure you rub your eyes, willing yourself to wake up enough to make sense of Bucky’s words. When you’re finally able to read the text, you can’t help the heat pooling between your legs, nor can you help the strangled gasp that leaves you. You know what this means. What you’re in for. It must have went badly.

You should feel horrible, and in a way you do. But when Bucky sends a simple “ ** _I need you. Be ready._** ” you know he’s a different version of himself. That different version of himself and you… The two of you make something beautiful. Pain mixed with pleasure, he breaks you apart only to piece you back together again, and in doing so does the same to whatever monster lay dormant inside of him.

You’ve been through this before with him. You know the drill. You know what to expect. You breathe deeply, centering yourself. You send a quick message back. “How long?”

His response comes quick. You’re standing, stretching your muscles, warming them. While you know what to expect, you also don’t know exactly what he’s going to have in mind. “ ** _Be there in 10._** ”

 _Fuck, that’s soon_. You shoot off a quick “okay” and get yourself busy grabbing things you might need and heading downstairs. After the first time the two of you played like this, you’d redone the basement, furnished it and made it perfect for nights like tonight. There was a bed, a couch, various benches and beams and chairs, and storage containing various implements that he never used, or rarely used.

Extensive research had been done on both your parts. He was nervous, understandably so, of harming you on accident, going too far. You settled on the color system for safety, and in the event that you weren’t able to speak you were to use the hand signal. Each item held in your secret storage chests had been approved by both of you.

The basement was your favorite.

You grab a blanket, just in case, and bring yourself to the room to strip bare. You take the various pieces of your clothing and fold them, placing everything in a neat pile on the shelf near the door. You check the time on your phone one more time before turning the power off and setting it with your clothes.

He should be coming any minute, now.

You take your place kneeling on the stand alone ottoman in the middle of the room. It’s surface was padded, making it comfortable enough to spend long periods of time on, but you also felt exposed, which made your insides clench. Your hands rest on your thighs as you wait in the quiet, every noise amplifying as you wait, as you will Bucky to walk through the door of your home and rush down to where you wait so patiently for him.

Finally, you hear him. Gooseflesh erupts along your skin but you keep your head down. Only make eye contact when it’s asked of you. He wastes no time as you hear his heavy footfalls descending the stairs and making their way toward you.  

The air feels warm as he moves closer to you. You catch a glimpse of his legs, noting that he hasn’t changed out of his tactical gear. That does nothing to slow your arousal, especially when you catch a glimpse of your favorite knife in his thigh holster.

You feel a cold, metal finger under your chin and you lift, looking him straight in his cold, calculating eyes. “Stand,” he tells you.

“Yes, Soldier,” you say, doing just as he asks, bringing your wrists behind your back and holding them there.

He takes you in. Devours you with his eyes. Shoves a boot between your feet and nudges, encouraging you to spread your legs for him. He’s in no mood to tease, not tonight. He slides his flesh fingers between your legs feeling the wetness gathered there. “Mine,” he says as he gropes your aching core.

“Yes, Soldier. Yours.”

He removes his hand and brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean. He’s not given you permission to look at him since you’ve stood, so you wait. Your eyes face forward and you wait, and wait, and wait. He likes making you wait because he knows you hate it just as much as you love it.

“Walk,” he tells you, gesturing to one of the beams on the ceiling. It’s fitted with chains that hang down so that various things can be attached, and in this case, he reaches for simple leather cuffs. Once he has them attached, he secures your wrists together so that you’re unable to move them.

Now that you’re secure, he drags his hands down your arms, cups each breast–one in his flesh hand and one in metal, and thumbs your nipples. You want to hiss at the sensations but you don’t because he hasn’t said you could. His hands continue their descent down your body, gripping every curve roughly.

He pulls away before you’re ready for him to and a small, soft whine slips out before you can stop it. Dark eyes flick up to yours and without a word he raises his flesh hand and brings it down hard on one breast and then the other.

“тихо,” he says.  _Quiet_.

You know this game. You know exactly what he’s saying by the tone in his voice.

“Yes, Soldier,” is all you say before biting your lips between your teeth.

“If I want you to be loud, I will make you loud,” he says, and it’s like a promise laced with spit and venom.

“I will take what you give me, Soldier.”

He considers your words for a moment, moving around your body. He’s circling you like a hunter would his prey and you’re positive you’re soaking. He’s coiled, ready to strike at any moment.

His fingers graze the small of your back and your muscles tense but you don’t move. You’re behaving, but that’s not what he wants, you think, because his hands are removed for several beats, then out of nowhere his flesh hand connects with the cheeks of your ass hard enough to make you yelp.

That slap was followed by three more in quick succession, your yelps turning breathy and full of need. Your ass is pink, you know it is, but you can’t help but ever so slightly push it towards him, silently asking for more.

“нет,” he tells you. No. “жадная девочка.”  _Greedy little girl_.

“Sorry, Soldier. I get only what you give me.”

“да. Only what I give you.”

He touches your tender skin, pressure unforgiving as he leaves white marks in the redness. He grabs your ass with both hands and lifts your cheeks. He lets go and rains down four more unforgiving smacks.

You’re close to coming and you feel tears welling in the corners of your eyes. He must know you’re close because he falls to his knees behind you and drags your feet back just enough to change the angle at which you’re standing. You’re bent just slightly at the waist with your ass in the air.

You feel his knees near your ankles. He spreads his knees wider making your stance wider as well, which stretches your body deliciously. You feel it from the tips of your fingers to your toes. You allow yourself to close your eyes, to enjoy it. Your mind drifts, feeling light and good.

Your eyes snap open. His wet tongue gliding it’s way along your folds and your body tenses in its binds, unable to escape because of the way it’s positioned. You are putty in his hands as well as his mouth.

The tip of his tongue searches out your clit, and when he finds it he teases, circling it but never touching. “Where is your voice now, huh?” He taunts from below you.

“Does my Soldier wish for me to be loud?” You ask.

He slides a smooth finger inside you at an agonizingly slow pace and you can’t honestly tell if it’s a flesh one or a metal one. “Sing for me,” he says, as he slaps the inside of your left thigh. Because of the position he’s in, you deduce that the finger he’s inserted is metal and you moan.

He pulls that finger out slightly only to add another and push back in. “да это оно,” he praises. Yes, that’s it. He presses them back inside you as he leaves wet kisses all over your skin.

Two fingers turn into three, then, as he teases the tip of his pinky at your entrance, you beg. “Please, Soldier. Please, please, please.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and stands. “тихо,” he scolds.  _Quiet_. “You get what I give you.”

“Yes, Soldier. I get what you give me.”

He’s in front of you now. He has something in his hands but you’re not sure what it is. It dawns on you when his eyes turn questioning. He’s non-verbally asking for the hand signal. You give it, opening your fingers wide and making a fist again, three times total. This pleases him. A hint of a smile dances on his lips, but then that small smile turns positively wicked as he shows you what he has.

It’s his muzzle.

You’ve played with it before, but not often. The idea of him using something of himself on you, in place of a gag, makes you feel warm inside. Wetness pools at your center as he brings it to your face and attaches it. He brings a finger up and moves a few pieces of hair that had fallen in your face out of the way. He tucks your hair behind your ear and drags his finger tip down your cheek, over the muzzle, and he laughs. “Maybe this will shut you up, yeah?”

Your eyes roll back. You love it when he speaks this way. He moves to undo your binds, leaving your cuffs on and secured together he removes the chain that held your wrists above your head.

“Move to the bench. Lay on your back.”

You try to agree verbally but the sound gets lost behind the muzzle and he lets out a dark chuckle as he watches you stumble, the blood rushing through your legs after being stretched and strained. You quickly right yourself and make your way over to the leather covered ottoman you started at.

Once you’re in position, he takes a moment to admire you. The curves of your body are begging for touch and he thinks you’re beautiful. Well, he always thinks you’re beautiful but in this moment? Muzzle on your gorgeous face, hair a mess, thighs glistening with your own juices? You’re stunning. He doesn’t say it out loud but he’s so thankful you allow him to do this with you.

He approaches, runs smooth, metal fingers through your hair. “часть их,” he tells you.  _Part them_.

Your legs spread so wide it’s obscene. Once more you’re left feeling exposed, and you’re dripping, ready to cum. But, you get what he gives you. You don’t dare ask.

“The magic number is three.I will make you cum three times. You will count them yourself. Only after those three orgasms will I fuck you. Do you understand?”

You nod, unable to speak thanks to the muzzle.

“Show me the number on your fingers. Do not let your fingers go lax or we will start over. I want to see what number you are on at all times. Do you understand?”

Again you nod.

“хорошо,” he says with finality.  _Good_.

He’s got straps that attached to the underside of the ottoman and began securing you. Your arms remain bound above your head so he leaves them, but he binds your legs so that they are pulled back at the knee, leaving you spread wide open for him.

He leaves you there as he goes to your storage chest to find whatever it is that he’s looking for. Once he’s found the items he wants to use, he returns to you. He drops whatever he’s holding to the ground and puts his hands on your body, gently petting your skin.

It feels good, the coolness of the metal a beautiful contrast to your sweaty skin. He brings his lips down to follow the path his hands create. He tastes you, not hiding the fact that it pleases him as he does it. He trails hot, wet kisses down your whole body until he reaches your center.

“Should I taste you again?” He asks, knowing full well you can’t answer, and smiling wickedly as you try to anyway. You shift in your binds. “Or should I use something…else?” He listens as your words get caught in the muzzle. He drags a finger through your wetness and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to taste you. He hums appreciatively before dropping to his knees and burying his face right where you need him the most.

A moan escapes you, caught in the muzzle. His tongue moving wildly around your clit, as he sucks. You’re close again but you can’t warn him and he hasn’t told you not to, so you don’t hold back. You feel it start at the base of your spine, a spark spreading throughout your entire body.

He feels the change in you, can tell you’re right on edge, so he sucks harder and hums directly over your clit, the sensation causing the tension to snap and your eyes to roll back. “один,” he says.  _One_.

You lift your index finger and hold it as he worked you through the aftershocks. He says nothing as he slides a fleshy finger inside your pussy, walls swollen and slick from your release. He pumps his finger a few times then adds another and then one more, stretching you just right. “вы пропитаны,” he tells you.  _You’re soaked_.

He begins fucking you with his fingers, crooking them just right inside to hit the spot that always has you seeing stars. He finds your clit with his metal thumb and you feel the clench building deep inside and you know you’re about to cum again. You let out a ragged scream from behind the muzzle and he gently shushes you, unable to take his eyes off what he’s doing to you. “как прекрасно.”  _So beautiful_.

His thumb rubs faster and faster and his fingers inside zero in on that spot and you’re falling, light and airy. You hear the noise from his hands and your juices and it’s so obscene but you just don’t care, not when it feels this good.

You hear it before you feel it, a sharp smack on the inside of your thigh. “Get that second finger up, beautiful, or we start over.”

You lift your second finger and hold both up after mumbling a lost “yes, Soldier” from behind the muzzle. He runs his metal fingers softly down your cheek and smiles.

The smile turns sinister. You realize why when he picks up the vibrator from wherever he’d stashed it. You were so tender and you knew it would be intense. “You take what I give you,” he says just as he presses it to your clit and turns it on.

You’re screaming obscenities behind his mask and it’s taking everything in your power not to drop your fingers to clench your fist but you don’t, you’re behaving. When he slides his fingers inside you once more you cum without warning, harder than you have all night, so hard that you’re gushing.

He rubs your clit after removing the vibrator and pushes your orgasm into another one. You quickly remember to lift your third finger and he pulls his hands away. “So beautiful and good for me. Now I will give you what you want.”

You mumble out a strangled “please,” as he puts the toy to the side for cleaning once all is said and done, and begins removing his layers. You watch as he undoes the buckles and straps of his jacket. This man is chiseled, beautiful in a rough and dangerous way. You love his scars, the place where the metal connects with flesh. You love him.

He takes your favorite knife out of his thigh holster before removing his pants and boots, leaving him bare before you. He takes your breath away.

You watch with rapt attention as he approaches you again, the knife in hand. “I know how much you love this one, sweetheart,” he tells you as he takes his already rock-hard cock and lines up with your entrance. “And you’ve been so good.” He slides inside slowly, mindful of your swollen, tender pussy, then uses his free hand to rip the muzzle away from your face. “I want to hear you now, sweetheart. Let me hear.”

You moan, loudly, as you watch the knife approach your binds. He cuts the rope holding your left leg, then moves to cut the rope holding your right. You’re keening from the fast pace he’s set, trying to fight your impending fourth or fifth orgasm, you’ve lost count at this point.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Need it.” At his words, you let go and he follows a few thrusts after, filling you up.

“Fuck, baby… you feel so good. You’re so fucking good to me,” he tells you, unbuckling the cuffs that hold your wrists. He runs his fingers down your arms, massaging the muscles as he goes to help with blood circulation. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Buck, you’re a good man. A great man. I just took notice and saw what’s been there the whole time.”

He gives you a fond look before scooping you up in his strong arms and carrying you upstairs to the bedroom. You thought ahead and brought bottled waters to your nightstand before even going downstairs, so he opens one and lets you drink as he holds it.

“I love you, you know,” he tells you, laying down beside you after disposing of the water. He pulls the blanket up, covering you both.

“Love you too, Bucky.”

A few silent moments pass and you’re almost asleep, his fingers carding through your hair, dragging along your skin, lulling you to a deeply relaxed state. “Thank you,” he whispers, and you think you know exactly what he means. You thank him too just as your eyelids close.

конец.  _End._

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://stanclub.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
